Better the Devil You Know
by OrbitZero
Summary: In order to stop the Apocalypse, Dennis, along with the repentant Kalina, have to convince Arthur to help confront the Death Signs of the Black Zodiac, the only beings capable of carrying out the task which may win their absolution.
1. Prologue

**7.21.09 **This has been revamped. The plot was reworked so that Dennis did not need to look for his nephew, but for somebody else.

This is a bit more on the supernatural side of things. It doesn't deal with just the ghosts this time-it's got "demons" in it too. I guess as far as warnings go, it'll be the usual-violence and language throughout

Prologue

_"In some epochs one must travel the entire gamut of madness in order to come to reason again."  
_-Benjamin Constant

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Dennis Rafkin muttered to himself as he walked alongside the road. Had he been able to feel it, he might realise that, during the heat of the day, a black suit was not at all a comfortable choice. Had the others around him been able to see him, they might have run to him, offering their help at the sight of his bloodied face. Had he given two shits about whether anyone saw him or not, he might not have come here in the first place.

It's not an easy sin to be forgiven, entrapping the lost souls which wandered the earth in pain for some quick cash. Regardless of whether he knew what they were going to be used for or not, he knew he shouldn't have taken the job. He should have put his talents to better use-perhaps locating missing persons, helping solve murder cases. But who would've believed in his talents? Other than that manipulative Cyrus Kriticos, of course. No, others would have simply laughed in his face, and no one would do anything but ridicule him about his gifts anyway.

So, as it was, he was left wandering the planet. He thought for sure he'd won his absolution through his self-sacrificial actions at the Ocularis. But apparently, whatever powers that be might exist decided that his good deed just wasn't good enough to win him passage into the afterlife. Noooo, he had to give _even more_ to make up for the grave sin of imprisoning those ghosts. Not to mention any of the other bad things he'd done in his life, he supposed.

Perhaps maybe it was fate, then, that lead his wanderings to that strange little cult's area of worship. Maybe whatever god existed wanted him to see those people in their weird ceremonial robes outlining their plans to jump-start the Apocalypse. If Dennis were any other person, he would've enjoyed the show for its absurdity. But, seeing what he'd seen, and knowing what he'd known about the afterlife and the existence of Hell, he was _pissed_. Not just because a bunch of crazies in some wack-a-doo cult decided the end of the world wasn't getting here fast enough. Not just because those same crazies were trying to open the way to Hell to let out some demons. No, it was because he knew this was something that _he _was going to have to stop. Something that _he _alone had the responsibility to solve. And very likely, his intended method of achieving absolution.

"What a crock of shit," he griped as he continued his long walk to the only person he could think of to go to. Getting the guy to agree to the plan would take a miracle. But he had to at least try. He just new he had to get to him, and get a head start on cutting this ritual off as fast as possible. The 'how' part of this is where he got a little queasy, even as a spirit.

He would have to confront the Black Zodiac once again.


	2. Chapter 1

**7.21.09** Sooo this has been revamped! I've figured that the version with Dennis' nephew wasn't necessary. I figured I'd give the family themselves a go, they don't get a whole lot of fiction including them that isn't a reworking of the film, anyway...Hopefully I can figure them out. Only a few lines changed with the prologue, so it isn't necessary to reread that. Thanks to everybody reading/reviewing.

One

It'd been a few months since the incident. That's how he chose to refer to it in his mind, unsure of what else to call it. Of course, as he was experiencing it, it was all so bizarre yet still very, very real. Now, months after the fact, it all seemed a little...silly. Like it was all some sort of dream that his mind ran away with. He often found himself wondering if what had happened was real, or if it was all some kind of complex way his mind had chosen to finally cope with the death of his wife.

But then his children, or the nanny, would bring something up, whether through a slip of the tongue or as an intentional question, and he knew it had to have been real. Bobby was the one who always wanted to talk about it the most. He'd always had a morbid fascination with death since Jean had died. The events of the house amplified it tenfold, and the little boy was always reading books about poltergeists this and hauntings that. Arthur put a cap on it when he expressed an interest in demonology. He had to draw a line somewhere.

Kathy never wanted to talk about it. Arthur realised younger children are a lot more resilient than people give them credit for, but Bobby hadn't been attacked the same way Kathy had. Even Arthur still had nightmares about that...thing which had attacked both him and his daughter. The ones that didn't have to do with the wild eyed ghost had to do with that poor, cynical psychic, Dennis, being attacked by the gruesome man with the spikes driven through him, and the seven-foot tall guy riddled with bullet holes.

And Maggie had to remind Arthur every once in a while, in jest, of course, that she was the best damn babysitter he was ever going to have because of the incident. Even if she was the one to lose track of Bobby to begin with. She had stopped that machine, at least, so he was definitely indebted to her.

They'd moved to a new home, an actual house instead of an apartment, once they finally actually inherited Cyrus' money. The man really did have a ton of money, but Arthur knew better than to spend it extravagantly. His home was simple, typical, in a suburban neighbourhood in Pennsylvania. The money that didn't go to paying for the house-in cash-went to any other outstanding debts and bills he had to pay. After that, he split a portion equally between Kathy and Bobby to save for college-not, as he often had to remind his daughter, clothes and a new car. And Maggie definitely got her pay raise. Whatever remained would stay safely in the bank. He kept his job as a math teacher, and spent money sensibly and conservatively as ever.

He'd just gotten home from work, and he was taking his time to read the newspaper as Maggie and Kathy cooked dinner. He opened the paper up and realised a few of the obituaries had been cut out. He sighed, and called out for his son.

The young boy trotted out, saying, "Yeah?"

"Do me a favour and wait to cut the paper up _after _I'm done with it, okay?" Arthur asked.

Bobby grinned sheepishly. "Okay." He raced back to his bedroom.

Before Arthur could get absorbed in the reading again, he heard something clatter in the room, and the television clicked on. He glanced behind him on instinct, thinking maybe Bobby had gotten the remote and decided to come watch television out here on the "good tv", as the boy called it. But no one was in the hall. Arthur turned his eyes down to the coffee table, a startled cry caught in his throat as he saw an all too familiar item sitting on top of the remote control.

A pair of clear, plastic glasses looked back at him, lights glowing softly in the upper corners of the lenses. He threw his paper down, and grabbed them up, looking around the room. His heart raced at the thought of one of those wicked ghosts being in his home. But he thought rationally, realising that it was likely not the case. How would they find him? Why would they? And why would they give him the glasses? No, it was his imagination running away with him, of course.

He was about to call for his kids to see which one of them felt the need to keep the glasses, much less toss them at him without a word, when a voice cut through his thoughts.

"Put 'em on already!"

Arthur paled, eyes going wide. "I know that voice," he muttered to himself, shakily slipping the spectacles on. And just as expected, there he was, the ghost of Dennis Rafkin. Still bleeding from the side of his head, he stood in his casual suit, arms crossed and head cocked to the side.

"Thanks for finally catching on," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm as usual.

The bewildered man glanced to the kitchen, then back down the hall to make sure he was alone in the room. "What are you doing here?" he whispered, confused.

"Yeah, uh," Dennis uncrossed his arms, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "About that, um. I need a favour."

Arthur narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He was infinitely grateful for Dennis' help in Cyrus' home. Even if he had been the one to help Cyrus capture the ghosts, he wasn't necessarily a bad guy. He was a bitter, lonely person who had been extended an offer of friendship in return for the help with catching the ghosts. He was manipulated, and after finding out what had been done with the spirits he caught, he felt guilty, had tried to get Arthur and his children to leave, and in failing that, had sacrificed his own life in order to keep them safe. Certainly, Arthur owed a lot to this man, but couldn't help but wonder what this 'favour' would end up being. "What is it?" he asked, still keeping quiet and glancing around nervously. If the others caught him with these glasses on...

"I need a mediator." Arthur waited for him to elabourate. Usually Dennis wouldn't shut up when he had something important to say, so the less he said, the more the man grew worried.

"For...?" he asked, growling impatient. He didn't even know what Dennis meant by 'mediator', but he guessed that whatever he needed it for would provide him with an answer. Dennis mumbled something quickly, too fast for Arthur to catch it. "Come again?"

"To talk to the ghosts!" Dennis replied irritably, rolling his eyes. "You do speak English, right?"

Arthur ignored the remark, getting irritated himself. "_Those _ghosts? No."

"Look, you have to do this, okay? It's really important, and I really don't think they'll talk to me," Dennis argued. "I need someone to talk to them, and the only person I could think of was you. You know them-"

"Yeah, I do know them," Arthur answered. "And that's why the answer is no." Had Dennis gone insane? They'd barely escaped the encounter with the ghosts the first time. The man asking him to go back and confront them had _died!_ And now he was asking Arthur to talk to those things?

"Will you let me finish? You know them, they don't want to rip you apart-"

"Oh really?" Arthur said with a mocking laugh, pointing to his own back.

"Okay, bad choice of words," Dennis admitted, putting his hands up in defeat. "But they see you as the person who got them out of their cages. They'd probably let you at least talk to them before trying to hurt anybody. And if you aren't a threat to them, they wouldn't hurt you anyway. Generally speaking, of course."

"The answer is still no," he replied quietly in a serious tone as a show of solidarity. "I am not ever going near those things again. I'm sorry for whatever unfortunate thing has prevented you from passing on, but I just...can't go through with that again."

"It'd be nothing like that!" Dennis protested as Arthur took off the glasses. "The point would be to get them on _our _side!"

That remark made Arthur laugh honestly that time. "Good luck, but I can't help you." He couldn't. He couldn't risk leaving his children as orphans. He wouldn't let that happen.

"Arthur, you have no idea how important this is. The fate of the entire world is at stake here!" Dennis cried, desperate to get him to agree to at least listen to the actual problem. It did cause the man to hesitate.

"Actually, there's a little more at risk than that," came a new, female voice. Arthur jerked back, pulling the glasses on quickly and looking behind him, spotting the petite woman dressed in leathers, her skull split open and pouring blood down her face. "It's more like the fate of every plane of existence."


	3. Chapter 2

In case you did not see the notes in the previous chapters, this story has had a major change. The plot involving Dennis' nephew has been scrapped. Now the story has the family from the film in it, instead. It isn't necessary to reread the prologue, but you should skim through the first, as it has changed a lot. Sorry for the inconvenience.

Two

"Kalina," Dennis growled.

"Rafkin," the woman returned with a slight nod of her bloodied head.

"What makes you think you're welcome in my home?" Arthur said, ready to go off at the sight of the woman who tried to convince him to kill himself, and put his children in danger. She had some nerve, coming to this place, holding that damned book in her arms as she always had.

"Yeah, what're you doing here anyway? Still trying to screw everybody over?" Dennis said.

"Keep a lid on it, Dennis," she spat. "We don't need your petulant remarks halting the progress of this conversation. We don't have a lot of time to spend bickering."

"No, I think we have plenty of time for bickering when it comes to backstabbing chicks who try to fool innocent people into killing themselves," the man replied.

"Enough!" Arthur whispered harshly, looking over his shoulder to the other rooms nervously. "I want you both out of my home before one of my children sees you, now!"

"No, Arthur, this is incredibly important," Kalina protested.

"Got another half-baked plan to open the Eye of Hell?" Dennis said with a tilt of his head. "I think he's wised up to your tricks, sweetheart."

"'Half-baked'? There was more to it than that!" she argued. "You don't know what could've been accomplished!"

"Yeah, murder!"

"And you don't think I've paid for that?!" she shouted, gesturing to her split open skull. "Cyrus screwed us both over, Rafkin! Let's try to get past it, and that dark time in all of our lives."

"Easy for you to say, I never lied to you about _my _intentions. I made it pure and simple that I just captured those ghosts for the money. I didn't even know what he was going to do with them. You did, and you still helped the bastard out!" Dennis argued back.

"_Shut up!_" Arthur hissed. "No more! I don't care which ghosts are doing what to who as long as my family is not involved! Now, leave!"

"But your family _is _involved Arthur," Dennis protested. "Yours and every other family in the world!"

"He's at least right about that," Kalina added, earning a resentful look from Dennis. "We have to gather the Death Signs in order to stop the Apocalypse."

Arthur's face contorted into a look of confusion and indecision. The Apocalypse? Knowing that there were ghosts, Arthur knew there had to be some sort of afterlife beyond that as well. Were things like the Apocalypse actually real? And if they were, how could they be stopped? They were supposed to be inevitabilities! Dennis' worried voice cut through his thoughts. "Whoa, wait, the Death Signs? I knew it'd be the Zodiac, but really? Them?" He started pacing, chewing on his fingernails. Old habits don't die hard, Arthur noted with some vague amusement, they don't die at all.

"Yes, the Death Signs," Kalina confirmed.

"Listen to me," Arthur said pointedly. "I. Don't. Care. About any of your ghost zodiacs or whatever else anymore. If there is an Apocalypse coming, that's just the way God intended things to be, and what right do any of us have in trying to stop it?"

"But that's the point!" Dennis cried. "It's not God starting it! It's a bunch of whacked-out cultists!"

"Dad dinner's ready and-" Arthur nearly jumped at the sound of Kathy's voice, trying to hide the glasses, but it was too late. He still stood nervously, wishing he'd been paying less attention to the ghosts and more to what was going on around the house. "Dad...where did you get those?" The terror on her face was plain as day.

"I just..found them in an old box I forgot to unpack. In with some of my old clothes. They were in the pockets," Arthur lied, poorly.

"Why were you wearing them?" Her voice rose as realisation hit her, and she scanned the area frantically, backing away slowly.

"Oh, no, just..."

If the living had still been wearing the glasses, they would have seen Dennis sigh and roll his eyes. "Because I need his help with something!" he said irritatedly. This was getting too complicated. He hadn't counted on Kalina showing up, or either of the kids interrupting.

Kathy almost screamed at the sound of the voice. "Ghosts?!" she cried, beginning to shake. "Like..like that-!"

"No!" Arthur said, reaching for her. "No, no, it's..." Defeated, he admitted the truth. "It's just Dennis. Remember him?"

Her relief was barely visible. A ghost was still a ghost, but at least some ghosts were easier to have around than others. "R-really?" she asked quietly, looking around. Arthur handed her the glasses, and pointed to where Dennis had been when he'd taken them off. Her eyes got big when she spotted him, and then...

"You _bitch!_" Kathy cried, pointing at Kalina. "You-you _horrible person!_"

Dennis burst out into laughter, tears coming from his eyes as he watched Kathy's reaction to the other ghost. The woman averted her eyes like a submissive dog, clutching the leather-bound book tighter.

"Uh-uh, what's goin' on out here?" Maggie cried from the kitchen as she entered the living room. "Who you callin'-" She spotted Kathy wearing the glasses, and jumped back, hands going to her mouth. "No way, girl, you better be playin' a joke on Maggie, now!"

"No! That man Dennis, and that Kalina girl are here," Kathy said, pointing.

"Excuse me? Kalina?" Maggie asked. When Kathy nodded, the nanny snatched the glasses off of the girl's face, then put them on, finding the offending ghost immediately. "You. Bitch. Ass. Ho. Who the hell you think you are, hitting me upside the head with that book?! Are you crazy or somethin'? Get the hell up outta my house before I find a priest to exorcise your ass!"

Dennis approached her, clapping a hand on her back. "I knew I always liked you," he said.

"You know it, baby. Don't bleed on me though," she replied, backing away from Dennis.

"All of your reactions are completely reasonable," Kalina admitted, head still lowered. "But I can't give up. We need your help."

"We?" Dennis echoed. "Oh no, no, no. You aren't coming. For all I know, you could be a plant contracted by those crazy fucks trying to spoil everything."

"What would I have to gain from helping unravel the entire universe?" she asked irritably. "Think about what you're saying."

'What is goin' on?" Maggie said. "Arthur?"

The man in question was currently sitting on his sofa, at a complete loss. "I have no idea," he muttered.

Dennis sighed. "Once again, I'm going to explain this. There is a _cult _trying to incite the _Apocalypse_ by calling demons to Earth, and the only ones who can stop it are the _ghosts. _Are we clear, now?"

"What does any of that have to do with us?" Kathy asked.

"It doesn't. It has to do with your dad. He can help us find the ghosts, and he can help us talk to them and convince them to stop the end of the world from happening," Dennis replied.

"Uh, excuse me? You mean the ghosts that almost killed him?" Maggie said. "No, I don't think so."

"We've been over this already! They see him as the person who freed them from their prisons! If there is anyone left on this planet that they'd _like, _it'd be him!" Dennis cried.

"Why would someone _want _the world to end?" Kathy questioned.

"Newsflash, Captain Naivety: people suck!" Dennis replied. She scrunched up her nose in frustration at him.

"The cult is made up of devil-worshipers," Kalina answered. "They believe that if they call forth Apollyon, he will spare them their deaths, and make them his disciples in thanks. What they don't realise is that huge, cosmic events such as the Apocalypse are pre-ordained. They are ingrained into the very fibre of the universe, on every plane of existence. What they are planning to do is pull at a loose strand on a sweater until it completely unravels." She set her book down on the coffee, and looked at everyone else. "If they start this before it was meant to begin, the Earth, and all the spiritual planes, will cease to exist. All life and non-life, blinked out in an instant."

"That's some Twilight Zone shit right there," Maggie muttered, crossing her arms.

"How do you know all of that?" Dennis argued.

"In the Arcanum," Kalina continued, opening the thick book and setting it on the table, "there was more than just the outlines of Basileus' designs and the basics on the Black Zodiac. It detailed many of Basileus' visions. There was one in which Apollyon, the Destroyer, would be called from Hell prematurely, and he would then be prepared to call the Four Horsemen and begin the end of the world. In order to stop it, Basileus wrote that the Death Signs had to be assembled. At the proper time, the Jackal would be released from his bonds, and deliver the final blow to Apollyon, effectively putting a stop to the oncoming Apocalypse.(1)"

"Must be why they call him the Sign of Hell's Winter," Dennis noted with some remote amusement.

"Precisely why," Kalina said with a nod. "The act would also win the redemption of all of the ghosts. It's the only way Apollyon can be stopped, and the only way the remaining spirits of the Black Zodiac could be absolved in order to pass over into the next life, which might be the only thing we can tell them to get them to help us."

"Ha ha, no," Dennis said, standing up. "That's ridiculous. Do you know what those guys did? They were _murderers, _and the Jackal was the worst one, because he was a rapist, too! If God allows those guys into Heaven, then I'd have to argue that He doesn't exist, because that's just too messed up."

"I don't pretend to know the way things work," Kalina argued. "I just do what I can with the information I am given. Regardless of their alleged absolution, this is the only way I know of to stop it all from happening."

"This shit sounds really dangerous," Maggie said, "You can't do it, Arthur." Kathy nodded in agreement.

Arthur seemed torn on the matter. If what they were saying was true-and he had no real reason to doubt Dennis, at least-then bad things were going to happen. Bad things that could kill him, and his children. Bad things that he could help prevent from happening. But meeting those ghosts again could end in his death. If he didn't act at all, though, Dennis and Kalina would never be able to convince those ghosts on their own. The answer had become obvious, even if he didn't like it.  


* * *

1. In an older version of the 13 Ghosts script I looked up, The Hammer, Jackal, and Juggernaut were all collectively referred to as the 'Signs of Hell's Winter'. This was of course, revised, and I'm certain that they are now collectively referred to as the 'Death Signs', with only the Jackal being the 'Sign of Hell's Winter'. This is why I gave him an important role in the story of Apollyon. I always wondered why they picked that title, gave it to him, and why he is the only one to have one, so this story gave me the opportunity to create my own reason. =P


	4. Chapter 3

Thanks to my reviewer..Glad you like it so far! Thanks also to alerters and favers. Don't be shy leave a review. =D The fic is finished being written, and it is seventeen chapters long with an optional, short epilogue that would set up for a silly sequel, if anyone is interested. But we'll see how that goes when we get to the end, as the journey has just begun!

Three

Arthur had promised Kathy that he'd come back home quickly. He was only going to give this trip a few hours, max. And at the slightest hint of violence, he was in the car and gone. Maggie and Kathy begged him not to go, and he almost didn't, but...

How could he live with himself if the world ended because he refused to help save it? Well, technically, he wouldn't be living at all. No one would. And he couldn't risk that. All he had to do was try to talk with the ghosts. Just talk. He could do that out of killing range perfectly well. And both Dennis and Kalina(though her word meant all but shit to him, and the only reason he'd believed anything she'd said about the problem was because of Dennis) agreed to do everything in their power to keep him out of harm's way. He made Kathy and Maggie stay quiet about it around Bobby. He was afraid of how he might take it all, and didn't want to scare him.

The drive was a little over an hour on the interstate, which Arthur spent speaking with Kalina and Dennis, or deep in thought over whether or not he'd made the right choice. The nervousness would not abate until it was all over with. He was sweating, his stomach felt fluttery, he had trouble swallowing, and was just generally a wreck. Why had he agreed to this? He was a man of logic and equations, not ghosts and superstitions! Was it too late to turn back?

_The kids. Just remember, the kids._

His breath caught in his throat when he found the driveway. "You guys sure they'll be there?" Arthur asked worriedly as the skeletal remains of the house loomed into view.

"It's the best place to start looking. Ghosts are naturally drawn to their places of death first, and places of heightened emotional stress second. Since none of them were natives of this area, they'll likely be drawn to their prison on a regular basis, no matter how much they hate it," Kalina replied.

"What about you two?" he asked nervously.

"We are drawn to it. It's like a calling, an itch that can't be scratched," Dennis answered. "We're a little more aware of what we are though, so it's easier to ignore."

"We've both studied ghosts extensively. We kind of knew what to expect, to some degree," Kalina added.

Arthur stopped the car. It seemed like any and all memories he'd blocked out about this place were coming back in a flood. The only good that came out of it was his final goodbye to Jean. He wondered if she could still watch him and the children from wherever she was. He swallowed hard, hand frozen on the door handle of the car.

"Don't worry, we've got your back," Dennis said.

"That's really reassuring coming from the person who was killed by these guys," Arthur remarked, finally getting out of the car. "Won't they see you?"

"No," Kalina answered. "Ghosts are able to decide who they are visible to. The only way a ghost can be seen against its will is with the viewers."

"Great," Arthur muttered. Not only would he be bothering them, he would be taking away their decisions to be seen or not. But, it wasn't as though he could do this without the viewers. He couldn't risk that. He eyed the burnt-out skeleton of the home, metal girders looking charred and twisted. Glass crunched underfoot as he approached hesitantly. There was not much left of what this place had once been. He was terrified, but pressed on.

A noise from within the remains of the home made him jump. He thought for sure his heart was going to explode from beating too fast. Slowly, he turned, looking in the direction of the sound. "Okay," he whispered to himself. He approached the sound, studying the area. There was a sheet of what looked like something that had once been a metallic wall or floor resting against a support beam. Something could have easily been hiding behind it. His breath became shorter as he approached, eyes on the area the whole time, and-

A fierce cry went up into the night, and Arthur jumped back, screaming for his life as something flew from the top of the pile of rubble! Its hand went back in an arc, it brought down its wicked ax on his arm and...!

It hurt mildly. And he realised it was plastic being wielded by a little boy who was now rolling on the ground with laughter. "Hahaha! Oh man, you were so scared! I got you so bad, and your eyes were like BUH!" The little boy laughed some more, and if it weren't for the arrow sprouting from the middle of his head like some sort of morbid unicorn's horn, Arthur wouldn't have realised it was a ghost. He could vaguely remember his zodiac name-the First Born Son. The man, still recovering from his near death experience, was panting, staring at the little boy of maybe eight, still rolling around in the dirt shaking with laughter. "You screamed like a _girl!_" the little boy said, finally standing to his feet.

"Why would you do that?" Arthur asked, though he didn't really need to know. Ghosts were assholes.

"Because it was sooo funny!" the boy giggled. He then stood up straight, serious-faced, with his hands planted on his hips. "My name's Billy. Billy the Kid, the fastest gun in the west. What's your name?"

"Arthur," he said, keeping it to his first name. He didn't want to risk the little ghost recognising the Kriticos name and associating him with Cyrus.

"Okay, Arthur, we're going to play some games," the little boy said matter of factly.

"I don't think I have time for-"

"No!" Billy said, stamping his foot petulantly. "You have to play, it isn't fair if you don't!"

"Hey, scram, kid. If he doesn't wanna play with you, he doesn't gotta."

Arthur whirled around to find the source of the voice, disliking greatly the idea that Dennis and Kalina had let another ghost sneak up on him. The teen was shouldering a bat, other hand stuffed into the tattered pocket of a lettermen jacket. Half of his face was missing, brains and all oozing out of his skull. He was looking Arthur up and down, recognition apparent. "What're you doin' here, boss?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. "You'd figure your last trip here woulda been enough to keep you away from this place."

"I don't want any trouble, with anybody," Arthur said, putting his hands up in a gesture of peace. He was honestly surprised that the ghosts talked. He kicked himself mentally. Why wouldn't they? They were just dead people, after all. Human, in spite of how they might look. That sort of reaction could get him into a lot of hot water with these guys. "I..I need to ask something of you..guys." He was unsure of whether or not referring to them as ghosts would be offensive or not.

"Ask away," the boy said, spreading his arms. Arthur kept a close eye on that bat.

"Well, it's not you I need to ask anything of, to be perfectly honest," he answered.

"That so? Who, then?"

Here, Arthur was unsure. He could only remember the zodiac titles which Kalina had listed off. "I don't know their proper names. Just the zodiac names. Hammer. Jackal. Juggernaut. I need their help."

The kid stared at him for a second, glanced down at the little boy, Billy, who was still standing beside Arthur, and then the two ghosts burst into laughter. "You wanna get them three...to help _you?_" the kid said, laughing still. "Ah, Christ, boss, you're chokin' me up! Come on! You know who you're talkin' about, right? Haha!"

"No, no I don't know them at all," Arthur replied, irritated. "But I know what I have to do, so I'm going to do it. The fate of the world may depend on them." Arthur knew how ridiculous and melodramatic he sounded, but he thought it might show the kid how serious the situation was.

But he only laughed harder. "Well, we're fucked then!"

Arthur rubbed his temples, trying to assuage the throbbing pain in his head. "I have to at least try."

The kid sniffed, finishing up his last bought of laughter before shrugging. "Your life, boss. Come on." He waved his arm, indicating for him to follow.

"Hey wait for me!" Billy cried, trailing behind the two boys in search of the ghosts.  


* * *

I don't know Billy's age. If someone knows, feel free to share it.


	5. Chapter 4

"So, what's your name anyway?" the kid asked, eying Arthur. The man figured it must've been a relatively good sign that the teen wasn't trying to kill him. It was an even better one that he was willing to talk to him.

"Arthur," he answered.

"I'm Royce. Gotta warn you, if you haven't figured it out already, these guys are totally weirdsville. I'll take you to see George first. Dude's probably the most easy goin' out of the three of 'em. Plus, I don't even know if Jackie's still around," the ghost explained. Billy had already run ahead of them, climbing on the metal support beams and jumping off of piles of rubble. Arthur took in a deep breath, looking around the ruins of the house as they walked. He thought he heard a whispery, airy voice, but he didn't catch a glimpse of whatever it was.

"Oh, Mister Georrrrge!" Billy cried in a sing-song voice up ahead. It was terribly unnerving. "You gotta visitor!"

Arthur thought he'd reached the end of his rope when he set his eyes on the hulking behemoth of a man impaled with thick railroad spikes all over his torso sitting on a piece of rubble, holding a few cards in one hand. The other was replaced with a sledgehammer. Sitting across from the huge man was a headless torso wrapped in cellophane, also holding a few cards in one hand. In the other, he picked up his own head, turning it towards the visitors. He just couldn't do it. He remembered the last time he saw that horrible..thing the large man had become, killing Dennis right before his eyes. "Who the hell you think you are, interruptin' my card game?"

Arthur took a deep breath. The man-George, Royce had named him-had spoken to him. Not thrown a railroad spike through his head, not slammed that massive hammer into his back. Spoken. "Hi, my name is Arthur," he said, as if he were speaking to a parent of a particularly troublesome student at school. "I've come here to ask for your help."

"You think I'm some kinda fool, boy?" the man bellowed. "I'm not dumb! You aren't gonna stick me in one of them cells again!" The man stood, and Arthur swallowed hard, taking a step back. He was so much bigger when he stood up...

"No, it's nothing like that at all," Arthur said, keeping his voice calm and even as best as he could, looking the spirit in the eyes. "It's something very important. If you'd allow it, I'd like to make my offer." He decided he may as well be as polite as possible. Who knew how little it took to set a ghost off on a killing rampage.

George glanced at Royce, who shrugged and shook his head. "Go on," George snapped.

"There's...a cult trying to start the Apocalypse." Arthur grimaced, realising how ridiculous he sounded saying all this. It'd sounded so much more feasible when Kalina and Dennis were vehemently trying to get Arthur to listen about it. Now it just sounded dumb and childish. "And the only people who can stop it from happening are you, and two of the other spirits."

"What good would it do me to help you?" the enormous man asked, crossing his beefy arms.

"Well," Arthur said calmly. "If you and the two other spirits stop it all from happening, then all of you can pass on into the next life."

At that, all motion seemed to still completely. The torso at the stump stopped shuffling his cards. Royce stopped tapping his bat against his sneakers. George stared intensely. Billy looked up. "You mean we could go to Heaven?" the little boy asked, breaking the silence.

"Don't be puttin' that kinda nonsense in that poor boy's head!" George shouted angrily, advancing. "You think it's funny, comin' up here to give us some kinda false hope!"

Arthur took a step back. "It isn't," he protested. "It's in the book, the same book that-" Before he could realise what a mistake it was to bring up the book, the words were already out of his mouth, and the Hammer seized him by the shirt, lifting him into the air. He knew he was going to die.

"No! Jesus Christ he isn't lying!"

"Stop! Don't hurt him!"

George grunted, glancing at the two new ghosts frantically waving their arms for him to stop. All of the other spirits turned their eyes on Dennis and Kalina, and the atmosphere became even more tense than before.

"You-!" the Hammer hissed.

"So you're back to try to capture us, huh?" Royce said, resting his bat on his shoulder. "We ain't dumb, you know?"

"Look, whatever shitty things you may think of us, that isn't what we're here to do," Dennis said, holding out his hands in a gesture of peace. "So, just let him down, and we can talk about this, okay? Don't hurt him!"

"Why should any of us trust you?" the Hammer growled. "You're the ones who put us in this place the first time!"

"Okay," Dennis said calmly. "Believe me, or don't, but I had no idea what Cyrus was planning to do with you guys, all right? I swear it. I mean, everyone who had a part to do in that whole thing is dead, right? I'm dead, Kalina's dead, Cyrus is dead. All dead. So how would somebody like Arthur be able to do something that it took virtually an entire army to do? You guys aren't going to be captured! If anything, you guys owe him. He was the one who freed you, after all."

George seemed to be considering the information, weighing it in his mind. True enough, all of those involved in the capturing and containment of the ghosts were dead. There was no real threat of that happening right now. And Arthur and his family had been the ones to free the ghosts from their prisons. Jean, the nice lady-spirit, had always spoken so highly of them. But he still couldn't bring himself to trust anyone that was in cahoots with someone like Dennis Rafkin or Kalina Oretzia.

"And what he's saying about the Arcanum is true," Kalina added. "We _do _need your help. And if you help us, you'll be rewarded. Your spirits will be absolved, and you can move on. All of you." Now that part, he definitely liked. He began to lower the terrified man to the ground, letting him go. Arthur immediately stepped behind Kalina and Dennis, breathing hard.

"What are we expected to help you with?" the Hammer asked, crossing his arms again.

"It's required that you, the Jackal, and the Juggernaut destroy Apollyon, a demon who will attempt to start the Apocalypse. A cult is trying to raise him in hopes of becoming his disciples in the afterlife," Kalina explained, reaffirming what Arthur had already said, with a little more detail.

"That's a lot to ask," the Hammer said.

"And you have what to lose?" Dennis replied sarcastically, earning him a glare from the bulky man. He flinched.

"Hey, they got a point, man," Royce added. "Not like we got a whole lot else to do. It's totally boresville out here, you know?"

"Who said you were coming, hot shot?" Dennis asked.

Royce grinned evilly, reveling a little in the step back Dennis took. "Hey man, I go where the wind takes me, or some garbage like that. And besides. Horace likes me. I can help get him on board, you get me?"

"Why the hell would he like a shitty kid like you?" Dennis shot back.

"Shit, guy's a genius with cars. That's where all of his brains gone to!" Royce replied. "Fixed up my baby like new."

"Where'd he get the parts from? There aren't exactly a whole lot of phantom-Jiffy Lube's popping up into business," Dennis said.

"We got our ways, man. Come on. Let's go find him."


End file.
